#targaryen men are idiots

[areaderinlove]

this is a complete ramble because i am reading a dance with the dragons and i am just like raeghar targaryen is the stupidest targaryen or one of but in my list he's no.1 cause sir you have a gorgeous wife and lovely kids and yet you go and kidnap a 14 year old girl like wtf , you cause civil war and shit and not that you are idiot enough to believe westorosi men will actually want you as their king, like mate your father is mad they are sick and tired of y'all blond asses , and i hate him also because technically he's the reason why arthur dayne is dead , like f u ( ik i included the series if you want but i hate him)

[fromtheseventhhell]

Saying that non-conforming female characters don't face as much misogyny as their "feminine" counterparts is so funny cause literally the misogyny in their treatment is more overt because they aren't staying "in their place" like men think they should. The disdain for women + misogynistic societal ideals are so much more blatant in male characters interacting with these women. Countless times they are, in essence, told they need to sit down, shut up, and know their place but somehow that translates into them having "masculine privilege". I can only assume that people with this take haven't actually read the books and only get their information from second-hand sources.

[two-white-butterflies]

a lemon cake | daemon targaryen

Description: The Hendriks have always kept to their own. What happens when a betrothal happens between the only Hendrik daughter and the Rogue Prince? A story where, you go through lengths in order to ensure your lord husband's loyalty.

W.C: a lotta words super mega ultra

A/N: After re-watching Descendants. I figured that this would be a good plot. Reader basically gives Daemon a love potion. It wears off. He's still in love. No beta we die like men. OC Daemon because of the love potion, but otherwise still him.

House Hendrik. In silence we persevere.

When the first lord of your house settled from Old Valyria, they did not bring dragons or swords - but they did bring magic. Magic that allowed the members of the house to hear the whispers of nature. But lately, nature has only answered with silence.

The lands were barren, and the sheep were dying of illness.

The gold in your coffers were nearing extinction. Correction, there wasn't anything left - your father has to work in the King's council to ensure that you and your children would live a comfortable life.

A prolonged sigh escapes your mouth. You stared at yourself through the reflection on the mirror. In silence we persevere.

You remind yourself of the words your father uttered before he left.

"My lady," the maid clears her throat. She was holding a sealed letter. "Thank you," you mumble while taking the paper from her hands.

You force a smile on your face.

My dearest daughter,

I am pleased announce that the King has agreed to an engagement, and your presence in the Red Keep is of utmost importance. It seems like the Seven Gods have answered our prayers. Do not think about the gold that we'll use to bring you here, your Aunt Jayne has agreed to sponsor the trip, with the promise that you won't forget her once you are a nobleman's wife. Take care.

All my love,

your father.

You finished reading the letter, inhaling the scent of vanilla. It was sadly a short letter, not detailing anything about your father's stay. He made sure that the letter was short and concise. He did not even have money for ink.

"My lady?" the maid inquires, curious about the contents of the letter.

"Lord Hendrik has invited me to join him in the Red Keep." you inform, watching as she poured you a glass of tea. "- will you promise to take care of the household in my absence?" you asked, and she presses a kiss to your forehead.

She stood as your mother, after Lady Hendrik died.

"I promise." she swore. "- have fun in the Capital." she smiled.

You could only nod.

"You told me that he agreed on a betrothal!" your eyebrows merged together. "You wouldn't have come here if the only purpose was finding a suitable match." your father insists.

"Our house has stood proud, looked down on others with lesser breeding. If word ever comes out that I am here to save a sinking ship, our reputation will be ruined." you argued.

"If there was another choice, I wouldn't ask." he says regretfully, his eyes cloudy with tears threatening to spill out. "- my position in the King's council is under threat. My health has fallen drastically, and only a husband can save you and our house." he breathes.

He knows that it shouldn't be that way, but it is.

"What you mean to say is..." you could not stomach to say the word.

"- this is my last gamble, child. If you do not wish to do it for our family, at least do it for yourself." he pleads.

Stupid family with their idiotic gambles. You cursed while continuing to concoct the potion. There was a hundred other ladies in this court, some more beautiful - some having bigger breasts - some having more melodious voices. And what were you stuck with?

This old gown that you inherited from your mother.

You weren't dealt the winning hand, so you must play with the cards that you were dealt with.

"Kesā sagon ñuhon." you whispered into the powder, feeling chills run up your spine as the magic takes effect. You will be mine.

You press a finger to your lips. Who will be mine?

Of course, they needed to be rich. You were in poverty and eating love for breakfast wasn't something you're looking forward to.

And of course, they needed to be handsome - because it will be a curse to stare at an ugly face everyday.

"Prince Daemon," you say out loud.

You fancied him when you were younger.

He had flowing silver-gold hair, and entrancing deep purple eyes. He was every maiden's dream. All everyone saw was a dangerous man - a shifting tide. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive.

But that wasn't going to be a problem.

If your love potion was going to take its full effect, he'd be a tamed dragon, and you'd be the most beautiful maiden in his eyes. He'd be loyal to you no matter what you did.

The thought of taming an untamable man was...alluring.

"Prince Daemon it is, then." you decide. Carefully storing the powder in the empty space of your locket.

The plan needed to work.

Daemon's eyes narrowed, seeing Lord Hendrik's daughter walk across the garden. His eyes were drawn towards her figure. He's heard stories about your great beauty - and now he's finally had the luxury of meeting you. "Lady Hendrik," he calls your name.

"My prince," you bowed, surprised that he knows you. "- it is a pleasure to be be in your presence." your gaze remained on the floor.

"I believe that I am the one who should be saying that," he tilted his head with a pensive smile. His eyes alternated between your eyes and your lips, engrossing himself in your features. "- it is not everyday that a maiden from Quid Isle visits the Red Keep." he added, offering his arm for you to take.

"It is a long journey." you were quick to answer, holding his arm as you both strolled down the gardens. Your father's castle used to have a garden exactly like this - but all the flowers have wilted now. Its beauty was forced to remain in your memory.

"I can only imagine," he hummed - still staring at your face.

There was a look in his eyes, telling you that he was interested.

He kept staring at you and you found yourself staring at him in return, waiting until he opened his mouth again. "You're very beautiful." he observed, moving a strand of hair away from your face.

"T-thank you." you surprise yourself by stuttering.

Gods, you've always been eloquent but what you were about to do was making you nervous.

You turned to look at the table behind you, sprinkling the secret powder on one of the lemon cakes.

"Lemon cake?" you offered, holding the pastry up with a smile.

"Sure," he agreed, not bothering to take the pastry from your hands - instead taking a small bite while you were still holding it.

The way he licked his lips made shivers run down your spine. You were indeed making the right choice. "Is it good?" you raised an eyebrow, waiting for that grumble on your stomach that told you that the spell was working.

"They taste different today." he admits, chewing at the sweet treat - surprised at the slight specks of saltiness. It brought the sweet flavor out, but it was the first time he's tasted lemon cakes like this.

"Good or bad?" you inquired.

Your stomach grumbles. His pupils dilate.

"Good," he says.

The love potion has indeed worked. He's looking at you the same way that the moon looks at the sun. There was a smile on his face, a soft and gentle smile only given to those feeling pure love. "You should try one, my lady." he offers, and you nod - doing exactly that.

"Is the court to your satisfaction?" he asked, unable to stare at anything other than you. "It is beautiful, my lord, especially the gardens. I've never seen anything quite like it." you smiled.

He admires the innocence in your eyes.

Your smile makes him want to smile too.

"Our gardens pale in comparison to Highgarden. Mayhaps, one day I shall take you there." he made a promise. You are slightly taken aback by the potency of your love potion.

"Take me there?" you repeated his last words.

"If it is your will, my lady." his hands rubbed circles on the back of your waist. "It is unbecoming, especially from an unmarried maiden. I wish not to impose, my prince." your mind returned to marriage.

Our last gamble.

"Oh yes, unmarried." he reminded himself. He takes a step backwards, a wave of clarity crashing through his features. You worried for a second that the love potion lost its effect, if it weren't for the look in his eyes - utterly dedicated and in love.

"I must leave to attend my business with the Gold Cloaks. Do not stray too far in the gardens, I shall talk to you later." he vows.

"Yes, my prince." was the only thing that you could say.

Daemon was fascinated but now he was sure that he was in love. Ever since he spoke to you in the gardens - you're the only thing that he thinks about. When he drinks wine, he wonders about the types of wine that you like. When he reads a book, he thinks about what your favorite books are.

Even a chore a simple as breathing makes him think about you.

As the months occurred, he's spent every living second beside you. Braiding your hair, reading books about his ancestry. He's even taught you a few things about sword-fighting.

He's defenseless against your love.

There was no escape.

"I intend to marry the Lady Hendrik." Daemon boldly announces in front of his brother. He was a million times sure that you were the woman he wanted to spend his eternity with. "I beg your pardon?" Viserys gazes up from his miniature version of Old Valyria.

"You've been pestering me about marriage ever since that Bronze Bitch died. I've finally made my choice. Lady Hendrik, the Master of Coin's daughter." Daemon emphasized.

Viserys' eyebrows merged together.

"Have you spoken to her?" Viserys inquired, surprised at his brother's sudden enthusiasm towards you. "I have." Daemon responds.

"How many conversations have you had with her?" Viserys follows up, a little skeptical but otherwise relieved that his brother has found love. "It matters not, she is the best choice. She is set to inherit her father's island. It shall keep me out of your way." Daemon argues.

"Lady Royce inherited the Runestone. What makes you think that this lady of yours is going to be different than the last?" Viserys queries, poking through his brother's resolve - trying to look for holes. He does not wish to grant annulment or mend Daemon's losses when the time comes that he falls out of love.

"I will wed the Lady Hendrik. We will live in Quid Isle." Daemon ignores his brother's question. His destiny already written in stone.

"There isn't anything that could stop you anyways." Viserys agrees, finding no other reason to disagree.

"Speak to her father. Make sure that he agrees." Viserys adds, returning his attention to his little Old Valyria.

"Your father has agreed to an engagement between us." Daemon announced from behind you, and suddenly your eyes light up. "Really?" happiness was leaking from your voice.

Your happiness, gives him happiness.

"I thought that what we had was merely friendship. You've really proved yourself, my prince." you smiled, as he presses your foreheads together. Your smile sinks to the floor, that feeling of guilt threatening to make your heart explode.

He doesn't actually love you. It's the potion.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired, his eyes flooding with worry.

I'm a horrible person for making him something that he is not.

All the nobles and maesters have fawned over his loyalty to me. The way he stares at me with love and adoration. He's not spoken to any other maiden except me. He refuses to dance with anyone but me.

When he realizes that this is all an enchantment, will he hate me?

"Darling," he repeats that term of endearment.

You snap out of the trance.

"I need a moment." you break free from the embrace. Sprinting towards the direction of your room. "Sure," you hear him mumble.

Once the doors to your chambers were shut - the tears flowed. "I'm sorry," you mumbled while laying on your bed, covering your body with the layers of blanket and furs. "I'm sorry," you kept repeating.

I'm a horrible person.

You've toyed with the very will of the gods, made Prince Daemon fall in love with you and act uncharacteristically - all for what? So you wouldn't starve when all the gold in your father's coffers runs out? There were thousands of small-folks starving everyday, their lives are lost to famine - all the while you worry about not living in luxury.

It was another day for you in paradise.

Even if your father died, you'd still live a comfortable life - as long as you didn't live above your means.

You shouldn't have done that to Daemon.

And the worst part was, you loved him - loved him with your entire heart. He was a constellation to you. You've never loved anyone as deeply as you've loved him.

But you betrayed him!

Betrayed the man that offered you jewelry and pretty dresses. Betrayed the man that looks at you with warmth.

You sniffle, slowly rising above the pile of blankets on your bed.

You march to your vanity, beginning to concoct a potion that will reverse your love spell.

You needed to make things right.

Daemon stares at the small hidden lake. It was something that his ancestors consecrated to have a piece of Old Valyria. The lake had magical powers, some say that it cures disease, but to him - it was the only thing that could convince him that gods were real.

"Ever since I was a little boy, I'd stare at this pond and feel peace." he explains, placing his hands inside of the lake - allowing that mystical feeling to wash over him. "They say that it is a piece of Valyria." he continues telling you the story.

These past few days, you've been avoiding him like a plague. When he meets your eyes - he sees nothing but sadness. He wishes that taking a bath in this lake would bring peace to you, or mayhaps cure the sadness that you've been feelings - you refuse to tell him what.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Dragonstone is beautiful." you were quick to thank, but your eyes were focused on the ground.

"Why do you evade my gaze?" he inquires, holding your chin with a finger - and lifting it so you'd meet his eyes. "We are going to be husband and wife soon." he announces, and that makes you flinch.

"I know," you hum.

"If you're scared of living Quid Isle - I promise you that we'll live there after the wedding." he points out one of the possible reasons as to why you were sad. "- I am much prepared to eat fish and chickens until I die." he smiles, and that sparkle returns to your eyes.

"Get in the water." he commands with a chuckle. "No," you shake your head - feeling his hand on your shoulder - threatening to pull you down. "Daemon," you warned, holding onto his forearm.

An involuntary giggle escapes your mouth, and you both plunge into the cold lake. That grumble in your stomach returns. Magic?

You hold onto him, unable to reach the bottom of the lake floor. "You are a cruel lord," you teased wrapping your arms around him.

He takes a second longer - still staring at your face. With that same lovestruck impression as the day you first met.

"Daemon," you say his name.

"I love you." he says out of the blue, burying his face on your nape.

For a second, his voice sounds deeper - his words more meaningful than usual. It almost made you doubt yourself.

You were about to lose everything.

Today is the day that you give him the reverse potion.

"Lemon cake?" you offer, holding the pastry with a forced smile. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist. "I don't want one." he shakes his head, instead choosing to take a sip of his wine.

"Are you sure?" your eyebrows merged together.

Why was he refusing your effort?

"I don't really like eating pastries, my love." he covers his smile with another sip of wine. He's been looking at you with more adoration, lately. He's been more dutiful than before. Always opening the door for you, always carrying your books, and of course, helping with the planning of your wedding.

"But I seem to remember that our love story began with a lemon cake?" you try to persuade him. A lemon cake is also how it ends.

"I've not had the stomach for anything as of the late. I'm sorry, dearest." he tries to say no as politely as he could. "But you have to eat it, please, for me?" you resorted to begging.

"No," he responds as petulantly as he could muster.

"Daemon," you say firmly this time.

Don't make it harder than it has to be. Eat it and hate me forever.

"Give me one good reason?" he says. His voice telling you that he knew something that you didn't. "Because your future wife wills it." you insist, and he sighs - taking a bite of the lemon cake.

He eats it with a smile, watching your features carefully.

"Does it taste good?" you found yourself asking the same questions as before. "Yes," he responds - chewing softly. "How do you feel?" you inquired, worried about his wellbeing.

"Why are you asking, little flower?" his grip is firm on your waist, ignoring the looks that you were both getting. It was a behavior unbecoming of unmarried people, even if you were engaged.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Do you still love me?" you found yourself carefully asking, masking it with sweetness just in case the potion wasn't in full effect yet. "I think that the potion takes a while to settle, my lady." he smiles, saying those string of words in a whisper.

You nod your head involuntarily until his words sink in.

The potion takes a while to settle.

"What?" your voice suddenly turns an octave higher.

"You are adorable." he muses, laughing.

"How long have you known?" the words spill out of your mouth. "It wore off when we swam in the lake of Dragonstone." he explains.

"So you've been pretending to love me these past few days?" you ask, guilt eating you whole. "I've not been pretending." he confirms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice. Our family isn't as rich as we appear to be, I-my father... I mean I thought that marrying you was the only way my family would be secure. But I love you and my conscience will not allow you to live in lie." you apologized, the tears pooling.

"Hate me if you want to. Have me executed for treason if you must..." you rambled but he silences you with a finger to your lips.

"You didn't need that spell." he says tenderly. His eyes still held that warmth, the promise to love you for more than a lifetime.

"I was enamored with you even without it." he chuckles, wiping the tears away from your eyes. "What?" you were confused. "- you need not to go through with the wedding." you add.

"But I wish to marry you, my lady." he takes the upper hand.

Oh, he's been long aware of your house's financial problems - it was one of the few reasons that Viserys chose your father as Master of Coin. He couldn't bare to see a friend of his suffering. And Daemon, well he's been drawn to you since you first stepped inside the castle.

You were magnetic and you made good company.

"Adorable," he hummed - pulling your face closer to his and silencing you with a deep and long kiss.

[jacesvelaryons]

(Modern! Jace Velaryon x Female!Reader) Social Media AU

summary: Modern Jacaerys Velaryon is an heir to the Targaryen Corp, and also has a decent following on social media. You and him have the best time together, making the most out of life being young, beautiful and successful. Spot the cameos of our other HOTD characters in a lot less stressful circumstance where everyone gets along in modern day. 😅

a/n: please keep sending in your requests! i love hearing and writing for you guys. i’ll get them back to you as soon as possible alongside a ton of original work i plan to share. will post a previews of my upcoming work with their posters and all.

masterlist

requests OPEN

yourusername

liked by rhaenyratargaryen, laenorvel and others

date night with the love of my life

sarasnow hope you had a blast lovelies!!

liked by yourusername

↩️ random63 wasn’t sara rumoured to be jaces fling situationship before he got with y/n? 👀👀

↩️ person173 i think so but she cregan and jace have made it clear they’re all just close friends

↩️ user649 ofc sure 🤔

rhaenyratargaryen love you my darlings

↩️ yourusername love you too mama nyra 🩷🩷🫂

↩️ user0092 oh she got his ceo mamas approval this is SERIOUS

yourusername

⭐️

liked by laenavelaryon, sabithafrey and others

user725 she’s making the targ heir work for her i love it

↩️ fan92 as men should

liked by yourusername, baelatargs and rhaenatargeryen

alyblackwood you deserve it girl 😌

↩️ yourusername thanks pookie 😙

username366 wish my man would treat me like this too 😓

user271 now where is this dress from?

↩️ yourusername it’s @/versace luv!

jacaerysvelaryon

ibiza

taken by the beautiful @/ yourusername

liked by oscartully, joffreyv and others

baelatargs and where are the pictures of her? sick of seeing your face 😤

↩️helaenasbugs yes where is she?? 🤭

↩️ yourusername dw girls my pic dumps are coming soon 😭

yourusername youre so stunning baby

↩️jacesvelaryons no you are stunning babe

↩️lucerysvelaryon get a room please…

randomuser now why does joffrey have an ig he’s too young 🤔

↩️ rhaenatargs it’s just for roblox and minecraft updates he’s fine trust me 😭😭

yourusername

it’s all sea blue and sand from here. ���

liked by addamhull, yourgirlnettles and others

usernamehere oh to be the targaryen corp heir’s gf living a life of luxury

↩️ randomuser887 she’s a gold digger 😒

↩️ person1124 she don’t need no gold she comes from a comfortable family herself lol

↩️ user98 you’d go for the gold too imagine the life and besides he’s cute smart respectful and a gentleman i’d date him even if he was broke

↩️fan120 real

itsyourgirlnettles missed you luv! come over at driftmark more often

↩️ yourusername i don’t see you enough! promise we’ll hang one on one time more

↩️itsyourgirlnettles good luck to me to get your man off your arm even just for a few hours with ya lol

jacaerysvelaryon posted a story

creganstark

night out with the best bro

liked by kermitully, oneyedaemond and others

yourusername get home safely boys!

↩️usernamehere why didn’t you go girlie?

↩️ yourusername i’m always invited but im a grannie im in bed by 10 pm with a book winding down for the night 😅i come sometimes

↩️creganstark yeahhh you should come next time! had to deal with him fawning over you again 😐 don’t want your ego to get any bigger

↩️ yourusername hey! i’ll come next time i promise and my ego ain’t changing stark

jacaerysvelaryon missed you there my muse at my new set

↩️ yourusername i’ll be there next time i promise 😅 you know this isn’t my crowd but I’ll go for you

↩️ jacaerysvelaryon you missed my dedicated song to you last night i’ll have to play it again next time 😔

aegondeux yoo invite me over next time missed out the fun again

↩️helaenasbugs too busy at the bar that’s why 😒 why did you get out of rehab idiot

[andreawritesit]

Can i maybe ask for a cregan stark x targaryen reader where she takes cregan for his first ever dragon ride? i like your writting very much 🤍

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen Reader

Synopsis: Dragon riding is as easy as breathing for you but this time you have a special passenger with you.

Word Count: 1,924

"Can we go to the wall, Lord Stark?" Jacaerys' words made your jaw drop to the floor. Has he lost his mind?! The Wall? Why?!

Cregan glanced at the young prince and took a sip of his ale. "Are you sure, my Prince? It is much colder there." Jacaerys nodded enthusiastically. "I am quite sure. I have come this far. I want to see the Wall."

"Very well then", Cregan got up and dusted his clothes. Your brother followed suit. You stayed sitting, eating your food in peace. Jace had surely lost his mind. You were already freezing to death, you would surely die at the Wall.

"When can we go?" Jace's question made you want to punch him. Idiot. You were hoping Cregan would say 'after the war' or 'never' but what came out of his mouth infuriated you even more.

"Today, if you're truly ready for it." You glared at the Northern Lord. They have both lost their minds! You lightly pulled Jacaerys' hand but he was too busy agreeing with Lord Stark to go to the damned Wall that very day. "What of you, my Princess? Will you accompany us?" Your head whipped towards Cregan and you were about to say something rude to him when Jace answered for you. "Of course she is. I'm not leaving her alone here." You truly wanted to punch him square in his face at that. First, he proposes to go to the Wall and then treats you like a little child! The audacity!

"No thank you, my Lord. I'm not sure I'll be able to withstand the cold there. I'd rather stay here and explore Winterfell. I've barely seen anything here", you answered rather harshly. Cregan's eyebrow shot up at your tone but once again your brother interrupted. "You're coming with us. Imagine it, we'll be able to see the mighty Wall and even see what lies beyond. Are you really not intrigued about all that?"

"Yes, I am. But not enough to freeze myself to death for it."

"Don't be dramatic! I'm about as Northerner as you. We'll be fine. And Lord Stark will be with us. It will be ok."

Cregan glanced between us and sighed loudly. "You shouldn't force her, my Prince. If she doesn't wish to come with us, then let her stay here." You nodded to him in gratitude. Jace frowned at his words and decided to pull the good old trick out of his sleeves. "Alright dear sister, if you wish to stay here, do that. I'll go with Lord Stark to the place where Queen Alyssane and her dragon once stood/ How amazing would that be!"

You squinted your eyes at him. You knew your brother very well and knew what he was doing. He was triggering the fear of missing out within you. But you were determined to not let it affect you. "Do that. I'm sure it will be fun in the hellish cold up there." Jace rolled his eyes at you and turned toward Cregan, "How do we travel to the Wall?"

"By horseback."

"But it will take long, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, my Prince, it will."

"Then can I not just travel there on Vermax?"

Cregan shook his head. "I would advise against that. Dragons do not like the cold atop the Wall." Your ears perked up at the mention of Vermax. You hadn't seen your own dragon for a week now. You were dying to go dragon back riding again. Walking up to your brother, you linked your arm through his. "My brother has proposed a wonderful idea, Lord Stark. Going there on dragonback will be quicker and easier than horseback."

"Perhaps but you're forgetting one important thing, my Princess. I do not own a dragon. It will take me days to reach there."

"Not if you come with me on my dragon." You responded back without thinking and now both men were staring at you. Cregan let out a nervous laugh. "You jest, Princess. I couldn't possibly ride on your dragon with you..."

You knew you couldn't go back on your words now. Cursing yourself inwardly, you decided to push the idea forward. "Why not? My dragon is much bigger than Jace's and it can carry us both quite easily."

"Yes, but I'm not of Valyrian descent. Won't the dragon object to it?"

Jacaerys chuckled next to you and you elbowed him to make him stop. Cregan's fear was justified. "Do not worry, my Lord. I won't let you fall."

His eyes locked with yours and finding reassurance within your eyes, he nodded in agreement. "Great! Off to the Wall then!" Jace said quite loudly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The snow had started to fall lightly, dusting Winterfell in a fresh blanket of white. You stood in the courtyard, adjusting the straps on the saddle of your dragon, whose sleek greyish-violet scales shimmered like polished gemstones. Cregan approached, his expression a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, eyes wide as he took in the massive creature before him. You turned to him, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Absolutely," you said. "My dragon is gentle, and I promise you'll be safe with me."

Despite your reassurance, he stood quite far from your dragon. You smiled at his expression, one of awe and caution mixed together. You walked to him and held his hand. "Do not worry. He looks scary but he's much gentler than other dragons. Trust me." He looked at you and then at your dragon and nodded. "Alright then. Let's do this."

You slowly led him to the majestic beast. Walking closer, you gently stroked your dragon's neck and spoke softly, "Hey there my boy, this is my friend, Lord Cregan Stark. I want you to be nice to him, hmm?" Your dragon lowered his neck and gently nudged you to indicate his agreement. You turned toward Cregan and smiled widely at him. "See? He said he won't hurt you. You can ride with me."

With practiced ease, you mounted your dragon, extending a hand to help Cregan up behind you. The Lord of Winterfell hesitated for a moment before grasping your hand, pulling himself up with surprising agility. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding on tightly.

"Ready?" you asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

"As I'll ever be," Cregan replied, his voice steady but his grip firm.

With a command in High Valyrian, you urged your dragon to spread his massive wings. The dragon let out a powerful roar, and with a mighty leap, you were airborne. The ground fell away beneath you, and Winterfell became a distant speck as you soared higher into the sky.

The sensation of takeoff was exhilarating. You felt the rush of wind against your face, the powerful beats of your dragon's wings creating a steady rhythm beneath you. Cregan's initial tension gradually eased as he adjusted to the sensation of flight. You felt his grip relax slightly, and you glanced back to see him looking around in awe. Your lips lifted up in a smile seeing the almost childlike wonder on his face.

"This is incredible," Cregan breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. "I've never seen the North like this."

You could barely hear him up there. But you understood how he felt. You had felt exactly like that on your first flight, except that your flight was filled with your screams and he was sitting silently behind you.

As your dragon climbed higher, the landscape below transformed into a breathtaking tapestry of white and green. The sprawling forests looked like intricate lacework, the icy rivers glinting like silver ribbons in the sunlight. The mountains stood tall and imposing, their snow-capped peaks piercing the sky. The vastness of the North stretched out below you, a testament to the rugged beauty of Cregan's homeland.

"The North is very beautiful', you spoke softly. Cregan didn't hear you but he held you a little tighter again. You could feel his warmth even through the thousands of layers of clothes you both were wearing. He rested his head on your shoulder and a shiver ran down your spine.

Cregan's voice came out in a whisper, "I can see why you love this so much. It's… freeing." You didn't reply but you gently leaned your head on top of his. You had flown on your dragon many times but no experience was like this one. You wanted to believe it was because the North was much different from where you usually flew but a part of you knew, it wasn't the place, it was the company.

After a little while you shook Cregan a little and he looked up at you. "What is it, my Princess?"

"You were supposed to lead us to the Wall, my Lord. I think we have reached an entirely different place..."

Cregan looked down and indeed, you were nowhere near the Wall. You were flying over a herd of animals scattering in awe at the sight of the dragon overhead. He looked at you and you both burst out into laughter. "If I have lost the way even with you, I cannot begin to imagine where Jace is right now..."

Cregan stopped laughing and shook his head. "The Prince is smarter than this. I'm sure he'll have reached the Wall by now."

"Perhaps. But what do we do now? Do we go straight the Wall or..."

"As much as I'm enjoying this, it would be better if we land for some time. Your dragon must be tired as well." You nodded and guided your dragon to a gentle descent, landing on a snow-covered plateau that offered a panoramic view of the landscape. You dismounted first, turning to help Cregan down. The wind was brisk but invigorating, carrying with it the crisp scent of pine and the distant sound of a roaring river. "Thank the Gods we're still in the North. It shouldn't take long to reach the Wall after a little rest', Cregan commented after looking around.

"So, how was your very first dragon ride?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

Cregan looked at you, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Unbelievable," he said. "I never imagined anything like it. Thank you for this."

"See? You were being afraid for no reason at all", you quipped playfully. He picked up a little snow in his hands and grinned at you. "I'll show you true fear", he said as he threw the snow at you. You dodged it barely in time. "So this is how we're doing it? Alright then. Let me show you how we do things in the South." You picked up a handful of snow but before you could throw it, he had already thrown another snowball at you which hit your right shoulder. Your eyes widened and Cregan stood opposite you, laughing loudly. You threw your own snowball at him and the fight continued for some time until you both collapsed of exhaustion.

For a moment, you both sat there, the cold wind whipping around you, your breaths visible in the crisp air. Then, with a gentle smile, Cregan got up and held out his hand for you.

"I suppose we should go now, my Princess. Your brother must be worried."

You took his hand and let him drag you up. "You're right. Are you ready for your second experience atop a dragon?"

"More than you know."

With a confident smile, you guided your dragon into the air once more, heading toward the Wall.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Traded Posession

Dark!jacaerys x reader

A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭

Pt 2 here

TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink

word count: 1,656 words

They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.

The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.

The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s

men are the ones to find you after your

failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.

This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.

You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.

When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”

Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.

A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.

“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.

“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.

“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”

You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.

“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”

The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”

“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”

You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.

“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.

You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.

“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.

“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.

“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.

“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.

“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.

The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”

Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…

“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.

Stupid like biting his cock off.

He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.

“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”

You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”

Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”

You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.

“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”

“Over what, your Grace?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.

“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.

“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”

“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.

“Say my name when I fuck you.”

“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.

“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.

“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.

“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[fan-goddess]

hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.

(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)

Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love

Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love

sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥

HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt

The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.

A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.

This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie

Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)

Aegon Targaryen:

When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.

“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.

“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.

“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”

You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.

“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.

“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”

Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.

Aemond Targaryen:

He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.

He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.

Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.

He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.

“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.

“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.

Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.

“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.

Jacaerys Velaryon:

If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.

Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.

He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.

You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.

You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.

“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.

When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.

“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”

As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.

When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.

“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”

“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”

Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.

“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.

“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.

Alicent Hightower:

Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.

Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.

“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.

“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.

“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.

“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.

“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”

“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.

“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.

“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.

“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.

“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”

“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.

Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.

“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.

“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.

When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.

“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”

“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“

“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”

“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”

Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.

“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”

The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.

“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.

“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.

It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.

You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.

Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.

“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.

“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.

You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.

“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.

“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.

“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”

“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”

As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.

Helaena Targaryen:

Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.

You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.

Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.

‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’

She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.

When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.

“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.

“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.

“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.

“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.

So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.

It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.

Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.

“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.

“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”

Laenor Valeryon:

Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.

He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.

“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”

“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”

“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.

When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.

“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”

All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.

By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.

When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.

“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.

“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”

“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”

“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren’t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”

He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.

“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”

“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.

[the-fiction-witch]

I Like Him

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 12 Word Count - 1121

Requested -

Hello Miss Witch! Can I request an Oscar Tully story in your “Boys Yet To Have Books” please? The reader is a Targaryen (probably just the same age as him and named Jaerra) and has a he-dragon, she flew to Harrenhal to accompany Daemon and then met Oscar and just some cute interactions between them that grew into something. It’s up to how you will write it and can have lots of parts too because I will love it either way. I hope you read this request. Thank you! <33

The dark echos of Harrenhal seem to sicken Daemon the longer he remains, food seems to turn to ashes in his mouth, wine soured, his mind a mess of his own failings and falls.

“I’m surrounded, by witches, and idiots.” He sighed to himself,

Suddenly a familiar sound echoes through Harrenhal’s half-melted halls, the sound of a dragon's triumphant cry. Which caused Daemon to perk up and move quickly for the first time in months. He headed out to the courtyard part of him hopeful to see Syrax across the sky, or perhaps even MoonDancer.

But a deep blue dragon with shimmering white scales fluttered down onto the grass,

“Iēdar lilagon…” he sighed, He approached the dragon glaring down at its rider, “Why did she send you?”

“Because you're causing chaos on your own,” Jaerra answered as she climbed down from her dragon, wearing her tall boots and grey washed-out leather trousers, a deep blue jacket with a high low skirt and dragon clasps down her chest, her long Targaryen blonde hair with a single dark brown streak by her face knotted up into a tight braid.

“I already have enough to deal with,” He sighed,

“Hence why I’m here.” She said pulling off her leather gloves and walking past him, “You’ve been causing enough problems around here, so she thought I’d be best to come. Plus everyone else is far too busy to be your babysitter.”

“Busy!” He said as he followed her,

“Her grace is busy, planning wars and alliances,”

“And what does she think I’ve been doing!”

She rolled her eyes and continued, “Jacaerys is defending his claim at her side -”

“Baela and Rheana?”

“Baela is beside her betrothal, as she should be. Rheana is with Aegon and Viserys in the Vale.”

He sighed, “I’d have taken Corlys before you.”

“He is of far to high priority.” She glared, “You get me. If you’d have been more careful I wouldn’t be needed and I could be patrolling.”

“So that’s what she’s got you doing? Patrolling?”

“Ravens are slow, men even slower. Dragonback is the best way to get sights of our lands and the movements on them.” She explained, “Speaking of which, the riverlords are here.”

“They haven’t-”

“They haven’t arrived yet but they will in an hour, I flew over them.” She answered before she went inside,

“...Fucking-” He sighed following her, “We have an hour, time to change into a gown for the Riverland lords.”

“Alright,” She shrugged, “Off you go, to get dressed.” She glared,

“I meant you.”

“Seems a waste of my time.” she sighed, “We are at war, gowns seem pointless at this point,”

“You are … so much of your mother,” He barked,

She chuckled, “Is that meant to insult me?” She smiled, “I’d rather be a spitting image of my mother… than anything like you.” she spat, “Now let's get this sorted out before we all end up on spikes in Kings Landing.”

Daemon sat at the head of the table in Harrenhalls Grand chamber, Jaerra to his side with two seats between them, as in walked the Lord of the river lands. Jaerra raised an eyebrow given this was not the man from the many lords she saw from Dragonback whom she expected to be the lord. Lord Oscar Tully made his way in dressed in his fine amour, curls messy from his helmet. He simply nodded as a greeting to Daemon and his eyes flicked to Jaerra, he did a double take but focused his eyes forward.

“My condolences on the passing of your grandser.” Daemon spoke, “But the crown congratulates you on your ascension to the head of your house. And Lord Paramount of the Riverlands” He explained, “Truly Glorious well done,”

“I did nothing,” Oscar answered,

“Nevertheless, you are here which is the important thing.” Daemon nodded,

“You were quick enough to dismiss me before.”

“You were of no significance to me then.”

Jaerra sighed, rolling her eyes a little.

“Now. I shall have my great host you have a decision to make.” Daemon stood from his chair mostly to avoid the eyes of Jaerra, “Presume it is clear to you which is the right one.”

“You will forgive me, your grace… I am green. In this sort of matter. As you so kindly point out, but it does seem to me that you’ve made rather a mess here.” Oscar explained making sure to meet Daemon's eyes as he walked around him, “Countenancing barbarities in the queen's name.”

Jaerra choked back a small laugh but made no secret of her smile, as she rested her feet on the table,

“Who’s side are you on?” Daemon glared the boy down,

“... The river lands are held together by oaths.” Oscar nodded, “House Tully swore on oath to King Viserys Targaryen, We recognize the authority of the named heir Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen… And your own as her king consort.”

“Good.” Daemon nodded, “Then we should go to face your vassals and you shall call your banners to war,”

“That might be difficult my king,”

“Well… I was told they would come to heal When house tully declared it’s allegiance.”

“That… may be the case,” Oscar nodded, “But it is yet to be seen that they will heed my authority, as young as it is.”

“You are no older than my daughter.” Daemon chuckled as his eyes met Jaerra,

“... I’d further follow her than you.”

“Power and control don’t have an age. Merely a mindset.” Jaerra smiled,

Oscar nodded to her, “And there is another problem… they all hate you.” he turned back to Daemon,

“Everyone hates him.” Jaerra spoke up again, “Never stopped him before.”

“I don’t need their love, I need their swords.” Daemon glared,

The two in a deep moment of staring before the door opened,

“You’re grace, My lord, the river lords await. I fear we cannot delay them any longer.”

“Of course,” Daemon nodded, “Come along lord Oscar,”

Oscar nodded and walked out hand on his sword,

“You too.” He demanded to Jaerra,

She sighed setting her feet down on the stone floor and made her way out the door, but turned around as she passed Daemon walking backwards out the door, “I like him.”

“You would.” he glared, forcing her out with him.  

[deadonyouraccount]

Life Was Easy When It Was Boring - Gwayne H. x Targaryen!Reader

A/N: Hello I said I wasn’t writing but I did anyways bc @wicked-barbie inspired me now back to reposting on ao3, also the title is song lyrics from the police - darkness

Rating: Explicit

WC: 2.4k

Tags: PWP, 80’s corporate vacay, ARUBA!, I do get in the weeds about the au, Rhaenyra’s sister!Reader, Aemma lives, background Rhaenicent, bisexual Gwayne, I physically cannot go without mentioning Criston, dirty talk, oral m!receiving, f!masturbation, Otto argues w daemon while reading fiscal reports by the pool, Gwayne’s mannerisms are so very important to me

The soft din of breakfast being served drew you out of your thoughts. You scanned the room, seeing your sickly father— your mother rubbing his shoulders, a furrow between her brows. You were nineteen, Rhaenyra twenty-two, and set to inherit the family company. Aemma couldn’t have children anymore and now your father had cancer. Things needed to be tidied up considering her gender. Idiotic but whatever, she was intelligent and driven, you idolized your sister.

She was being courted around by the Velaryon shipping heir— you had a feeling she’d found a loophole. Your sister in a sarong, Alicent on her arm passed by, heading down to the pool to have breakfast, sparing no glance your way. You’d noticed Laenor certainly spent more time looking at men himself. A match was a match.

It was summer in the Northern Hemisphere. When the annual holiday to some destination most people couldn’t afford occurred. A neat bow for a two-week chance of expanding business. You went along for the ride, as was your duty.

This year it was Aruba. The Hotel Americana, sitting on lovely Palm Beach. You’d read about it in the Times. ‘Those who wish for familiar hotels with many resort amenities, nightlife, shopping, and gambling will like the scale and variety available.’

Hm. You had a feeling Otto was steering your father towards the economic boom of the United States right now. You went to University in Chicago, grateful for the warm weather. You were a bit shy and awkward, used to pubs and not clubs. Regardless, you liked the spa, courts, and the beach even if you looked like a ghost with that zinc-laden sunscreen your mother ‘offered’.

Not everyone had arrived yet. Uncle Daemon was to join with Laena, scandalously young, but she was strong and mature. Much like the women were in your family. You forked some eggs into your mouth, frowning. Laena calmed him, but he was certainly…chaotic. Daemon and Otto’s arguments were highly entertaining at the least.

Alicent was excited her brother was coming.

Gwayne Hightower was the enigmatic heir, a wildcard by all accounts, but he kept family ties. As a Targaryen looking in, it was expected of him to be ingratiated into the international conglomerate. Alicent was best friends with your sister, she knew all of you and held you as a baby.

The younger brothers who weren’t shucked off overseas in boarding school had their divisions to run and oversee. Where a Targaryen loomed, a Hightower stood in the shadow, pulling the strings, combing the pieces. Except Gwayne. He took off and moved to the States, you’d seen him in magazines.

“A male model, pah! He’s running from his birthright, he’ll learn once he arrives,” you heard Otto scoff to your father over breakfast, tossing a magazine out of his sight. You fiddled with your food, purple eyes peering out the large windows, scanning the bay.

You wondered if Otto held some hope for him. Alicent seemed to be doing just fine in his stead. Yet the idea of Rhaenyra becoming CEO ruffled feathers. Women in business…you certainly didn’t want it.

You thought about Gwayne again. He was handsome. Haughty, yet smiley with who he liked, a gleam in his eye like he held a secret, pretty teeth, and fine features. You were such an ugly duckling the last time you saw him. Baby fat, braces, pigtails. Horrid.

“You must be the other one,” he had laughed at some corporate dinner, earning some giggles and smiles. You smiled until you were alone and cried, watching your sister gleam, a shining star you wished to be.

The other one.

Perhaps you weren't too keen to see him again. Probably would bring a fellow model to strut around the beach with. Probably had a dumb smirk on his face, just like Criston used to. Probably would take a look at you and scoff about growing up and filling out.

You realized you were white-knuckling your utensil and carefully released your grip. You sighed, standing up to get dressed for the day, nodding at your parents.

It was always a flurry of neurotic dressing, comparing yourself to the willowy frame of Alicent and the athletic build of Nyra. Your therapist told you to dress how you wanted, not what you thought people expected. It was the age of athletic, leggy bodies— and you qualified for what felt like neither. Even if you played good field hockey back in school.

It’s not as if you were turned down often, but a bad relationship or harsh word left you insecure now and then.

“Curves, curves are pretty,” you muttered, tying on the top, a neon string bikini— one you'd bought on a whim shopping with your sister before the trip. The bottoms were cut high too, so you wrapped up in a big fishing shirt and slithered downstairs to hit the beach, a towel in one arm, a bag slung off your shoulder.

You walked out of the elevator, a clipped and haughty voice interrupting. They called, “Rhaenyra?”

You frowned. Not Rhaenyra. You turned to see the offender, lips set in a pout. Shock morphed your face. Gwayne Hightower, dressed in designer, his reddish hair all slicked and handsome, smug as you remembered. You blanched, blinking. Recognition flit over his blue eyes— a Cheshire smile upon his lips.

“Oh my, all grown up aren't you?”

He grinned, moving, holding you up as you tried to pass with a polite smile.

“Don’t you want to help a dear Hightower out?” He teased, followed by scoffing laughter. His bright eyes nonchalantly flicked to your face, then down to your tits and back. You would be lying if it didn’t feel good. You wanted him to look at you like that deep down.

What did you want?

You are supposed to be pissed off.

“I’m sure Otto has a whole itinerary for you, Gwayne,” you said coolly.

He shrugged, smiling to hide irritation, “I’m sure he does. I’ll see you on the beach, such a swan now aren’t you, no?”

You scowled, turning on your foot. He remembered the comment, the bastard had read your mind about the ugly duckling. You’d relax by the water and try to forget about his smug face, sharp cheeks, gorgeous blue eyes, and dark lashes- no!

“Fuck!” You hissed, scaring some old couple, ducking your head under your hat.

You’d been dozing under an umbrella, startled as the familiar voice of Gwayne disrupted your peace. He looked annoyed, a dismal look in his eye. The way his mouth pulled down reminded you of Otto and Alicent. You pushed back your hat, looking over at Gwayne lighting a cigarette in the adjacent lounger.

“Hello to you too, I take it you had a warm welcome?”

He scoffed, shrugging, “Oh, it’s always warm when Otto Hightower is in the room. Of course not, he wants me in the business, I want to live my life.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring at the sand.

You mulled over his words, replying, “You could step down.”

“No. I’ll get there on my own time, I listen enough to not get routed immediately. I certainly didn’t come to this island to pour over reports,” he bit out, puffing again.

You hummed, knowing what he wanted. Gambling, girls, glamor. Flowing booze and powder. You saw the appeal, somewhat. Aspects. Perhaps you wanted to be the girl. You looked back at the waves in the distance, sighing, “Then why don’t you go and schmooze up over by the bar and beach volleyball, you’ll find Laenor down there.”

“Laenor,” he snorted, “Yes, playing slap ass I’m sure. He’s a fun time, I’ll admit.”

You pulled down your glasses. No man around you had ever uttered such things aloud. Gwayne laughed, grinning, eyes crinkling. He hummed, “You’re still so naive you know that? You’re a pretty little swan yet hiding out all alone. Men fuck men, it’s real and it’s quite pleasurable, darling.”

You fumed a little, he was tearing you to shreds with his mouth, and tossing the bits around with his hungry gaze. You sat up, glaring, blonde hair cascading down your shoulders. Your manicured nail jabbed at his Ralph Lauren-clad chest, soft voice growing sharp.

“You think you’re going to just waltz in and know everything? Tell me why you’re over here talking about fucking Laenor Velaryon with the spare daughter and not going to ‘enjoy yourself’ or whatever you said. Probably snorting and drinking up the nightclub and blowing your money on rummy. Trust me, I know the type, they just aren’t so blatantly ignorant!”

His smug smile dropped, eyes wide. The man looked chastised. Now you felt bad, frowning. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. Gwayne said nothing, looking to the side, and ashing out his cigarette. You apologized, gathering your scurried emotions.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not easy, all of this,” you gestured vaguely.

He replied quietly, “I was being an ass to you, you had every right.”

A beat of silence enveloped the air.

“You don’t have anyone else out of the circle to go to do you, Gwayne?”

He nodded- that grim look upon his face. You wanted it to go away. You didn’t like upsetting people. Rarely did you speak so candidly. Granted, he was an ass but you hated this tension. You wracked your mind for a quick solution.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” You asked.

“W-what?” He spluttered, blue eyes going comically wide, spine stiffening.

You flushed, groaning at your inability to smooth things over. That was stupid. You should talk to your therapist about this. Thank God your mother let you pursue your career. You tried to speak, but your mouth was growing wet thinking about it. Sucking him off. The fucker hadn’t left your mind.

He cut you off, leaning in, voice husky, “So you're not that sweet little swan everyone thinks you are, hm? Using that pretty mouth, dating bad, bad guys like me. What else are you hiding?”

You whimpered, feeling exposed, the redhead looking around before gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lean thighs. He grinned again, eyes lidded as he watched your expression. Gwayne cooed, “Acting so shy, I thought you wanted to suck my cock baby?”

“I- I do, I just- I said it too soon. I was going to say I was holding resentments from the past against you and I'm sorry again for insulting you. Something is wrong with me? I think you're very, very attractive,” you rambled nervously.

He laughed lowly, stroking your hips and flanks, hands gentler than you expected. The heir nosed under your jaw, humming, “You’re so soft, God, you feel good.” He inhaled deeply, cock swelling and twitching underneath your weeping cunt, separated by thin swimwear.

“I should just sit out by the waves and take you apart, pretty girl, you want it, don’t you? As an apology, yes.”

You whimpered again, nodding, hands sliding his button up off his shoulders, ogling fair skin and a body he put work into. He wasn’t one of those overbuilt types you disliked. Gwayne grabbed the back of your head, meeting his lips with yours, slow and sensual, humming languidly.

Your left hand wrapped into copper locks, the other skimming his chest, a playful thumb sliding over his nipple. His breath hitched before laughing, “Cheeky.”

You resumed kissing him, growing eager, arching into his body, your hand sliding down to grip his cock, moaning softly. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into your mouth, your jaw widening some for better access, tongues gently rubbing on each push and pull. Your heart was thumping, Gwayne groaning as you squeezed his prick.

“I want it, let me let me,” you pled, lips swollen and hair mussed. Gwayne nodded breathlessly, hand on your cheek, the other grabbing a towel as he murmured, “For your knees at least.”

“There’s those manners,” you smiled, purple eyes flicking upward.

Pop. Gasp.

He snickered as your hands went up to cover your exposed tits. Yet not a soul was around and he was stroking his full prick through his swim shorts, handsome face flushed and smirking down at you. You slapped his outer thigh, huffing, “Just couldn’t take the compliment.”

He hummed lazily, “Mm- I just wanted the whole view, those tits and lips.”

Your lashes fluttered, cunt throbbing at his raspy tone. “Mhm, yes, you’ll get it all,” you murmured, easing down the shorts below his balls, Gwayne grunting in relief. Your eyes peered up at him, tying your thick silver hair up. He wrapped his hand around your ponytail, eyes studying you silently.

With a soft inhale, you lapped up the length of his cock, a hand on the tip, the other cupping his sack. You moaned along with him as you wet him nice and good, drooling on his flushed tip, pulling the skin back some. His head fell back with a sharp grunt, gasping your name as your lips enveloped the ruddy tip. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together as you began to bob your head.

His calloused hand got a handful of your breast, pinching and pulling at your nipple. You whimpered, sending vibrations down the length of him as he panted, thighs spreading. Gwayne murmured, hoarse, “Fuck, sweetheart, fuck, you’re going to make this end too fast. I’ll- oh god!” His hand wrenched into your hair as you circled your tongue around the tip of his cock, playfully flicking the salty pre oozing from the slit.

Gwayne tried again, snapping to get your eyes on him.

“I- I said I’ll make you see stars this week. Play with your pretty pussy until you cry, hm? W-want that? Do you want that baby? I’ll do it, I’ll fuck you good and hard, eat your cunt whenever fucking hell,” his sultry rasp peeled off into an anguished moan, throat bobbing as his cock pulsed and twitched.

He was growing close and you whimpered like a bitch in heat for it. Your fingers slid down to your aching clit as you suckled harder, rubbing in tandem, the soft whines and hums bringing Gwayne closer.

His blue eyes were shut tight as he babbled, “Close baby, so close, keep touching yourself for me, mmmfuck.”

Your amethyst eyes met his blue ones, debauched and messy— clumped lashes, mussed hair, your lips stretched tight. He blew with a long groan, gripping your hair again. You swallowed it down, gagging a little as he fucked into your throat in stuttering movements.

You pulled off, wiping your mouth, gasping for breath. Gwayne grabbed you with no qualms, grinning between his heavy breaths.

“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t come did you?”

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode 2 thoughts

aegon screaming hysterically and smashing up viserys's model of old valyria…alicent unable to get through a sentence without sobbing…helaena staring blankly at the wall and clutching jaehaerys's blanket…i love acting but also that all kind of broke me.

genuinely i am enjoying tom glynn-carney as aegon SO much, he's quickly becoming one of my favorite actors on the show and gives his character so much nuance.

otto using his grandson's horrific death as a pr stunt…truly that man never stops working, he's always on the clock.

i also LOVED the big blowout fight scene between rhaenyra and daemon, it's about time someone dragged that man to hell and back. "the darkness you sheathe within yourself like a sword" and "i don't trust you" and "you're pathetic" go OFF rhaenyra!

criston please don't send someone else on a suicidal assassination mission because you were slacking your duty and banging alicent while the heir to the throne got decapitated. oh, who i am kidding, that man has never had a normal reaction to anything in his life.

i'm so glad we got an actual scene with baela (and the promise of more with her and moondancer in future weeks!) since she and rhaena have been horrendously underused so far.

aemond you have so many issues please go to therapy not a brothel. also i've blogged about this before but the idea that he really thinks he's an equal threat to daemon honestly is so silly.

alyn AND addam of hull spotted, we've got the complete set, and a little teaser of seasmoke as well!

the scene between corlys and rhaenys where corlys was like "if daemon would just submit to rhaenyra and enjoy being a bottom as i do on occasion" made me laugh so hard my sister asked me if i was okay.

i'm very intrigued by the scene between rhaenyra and mysaria (especially the mutual bonding over being exasperated by daemon) since they're technically on the same side but very much at odds in the book and i'm curious to know if this will continue in future episodes.

i really like that this season is emphasizing the perspectives of smallfolk like the hull brothers, hugh hammer, and the brothel mistress, it's something i felt was missing in season 1.

this really was an episode of targaryen men getting absolutely dragged by others for their poor political decisions. can't say i support otto's decisions most of the time but he was 100% correct about aegon.

also the moment where otto realized he had schemed for 20+ years to land a total idiot who just fired him on the throne…delicious, but rhys ifans played it so well i honestly still felt bad for him.

daeron mention! at this point i was honestly starting to think they had cut him from the show so that was a surprise.

as an identical twin i very much enjoyed the erryk and arryk drama but i must admit that i ALSO could not tell the twins apart when they were dueling. someone please revoke my twin card.

alicent walking into a room, seeing aegon crying, and just walking out was kind of funny ngl.

i really didn't expect criston and alicent's dynamic this season but i'm honestly enjoying it a lot. the mutual self-flagellation over their affair, alicent repeatedly slapping him and criston allowing it…really fun honestly.

caraxes is properly coming back next episode and it's true, i HAVE missed that noodle boy <3

also it looks like our first proper looks at harrenhal, moondancer, and a bracken vs. blackwood fight!

[novaursa]

The Wolf Who Challenged Fire (extra chapter)

- Summary: A few extra moments that were removed from the story.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Brandon Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for adult content this time)

- Previous part (the whole story): 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The grounds of Harrenhal were alive with nosie. Rows of colorful pavilions stretched out like a patchwork quilt under the pale spring sun, banners snapping in the brisk breeze. Lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms had begun to arrive for the much-anticipated tourney, their entourages filling the castle grounds with a cacophony of voices, horses, and laughter.

Brandon Stark stood near the stables, his broad frame casting a shadow over the trampled grass. His wolfish grin was in full display as he clasped hands with Robert Baratheon, who had just arrived with his usual swagger, his booming laughter echoing through the air.

“Gods, you look as if you’ve been dragged behind your horse,” Robert bellowed, clapping Brandon on the shoulder with a force that nearly made him stumble. “What’s the matter, Stark? Lost your taste for ale and mischief?”

Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. “Not all of us can carry a cask of wine under our belt, Robert. Some of us have to keep our wits about us.”

“Wits?” Robert snorted, his dark blue eyes glinting with amusement. “That’s what I have Jon for.” He gestured toward Jon Arryn, who was just dismounting nearby, shaking his head at Robert’s antics.

Brandon opened his mouth to reply, but his attention was drawn to the far end of the grounds, where a procession of crimson and black had begun to arrive. The Targaryens. The unmistakable silver hair of Rhaegar caught the light as he dismounted with practiced grace, his indigo eyes scanning the crowd with a calm intensity. His armor, polished and gleaming, reflected the sun’s rays, making him look every bit the prince he was rumored to be.

And behind him, trailing with a regal but subdued air, was the unmistakable figure of Y/N. Your gold-and-silver hair caught in the wind like threads of fire and moonlight, your lilac eyes bright even from a distance. Aerys had placed you at the head of the entourage, parading you like a prized possession. Brandon’s chest tightened as he watched you, his heart thundering against his ribs. He hated seeing you like this—used as a pawn in your father’s twisted games.

Robert followed his gaze, his expression turning sly. “Ah, so that’s why you’ve been brooding. The dragon princess has caught your eye, has she?”

Brandon forced his gaze away, shaking his head with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, Robert.”

But Robert’s laughter died as another voice, calm and cold, interrupted their exchange. “Brandon Stark.”

Brandon turned to find Rhaegar standing a few paces away, his face composed but his eyes steely. The prince’s voice carried a weight that silenced the noise around them, and the animosity between the two men was visible.

“Prince Rhaegar,” Brandon said, inclining his head slightly. His tone was respectful, but there was no warmth in it.

Rhaegar’s gaze flickered briefly to Robert, who lingered for a moment before giving Brandon a pointed look. “I’ll leave you two to it,” Robert muttered, clapping Brandon on the shoulder before walking away.

When they were alone, Rhaegar took a step closer, his voice low. “I know.”

Brandon raised an eyebrow, his wolfish grin returning. “Know what, exactly?”

“Do not play coy with me,” Rhaegar said, his tone bitting now. “You think no one notices, but I see the way you look at her. My sister.”

Brandon’s grin faltered, replaced by a harder expression. “And what of it, Prince Rhaegar? Y/N isn’t yours to command.”

“She’s my blood,” Rhaegar said, his voice firm but laced with something that sounded almost like jealousy. “And your obsession with her is reckless. You put her in danger every time you come near her.”

Brandon laughed bitterly, crossing his arms. “Danger? From whom? You? Your mad father?”

Rhaegar stiffened, his indigo eyes narrowing. “From herself. From the court. From whispers that could ruin her—and you. You think Aerys won’t notice? That he won’t act?”

“I’m well aware of what your father is capable of,” Brandon snapped, his tone icy. “But I’m not going to stand by and let her rot in that cage you call a family.”

Rhaegar’s jaw tightened, his composure slipping for a moment. “You have no idea what you’re doing, Stark. You’ve already humiliated your betrothed, Lady Catelyn, by going behind her back. Do you think you can take what isn’t yours and not face the consequences?”

Brandon stepped closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “What isn’t mine? You speak as if you have a claim, Rhaegar. But she’s no more yours than she is your father’s.”

Rhaegar’s eyes flashed, the jealousy unmistakable now. “She deserves better than you, Brandon Stark. Better than a reckless wolf who drags her name through the mud.”

“And what would you offer her?” Brandon shot back, his voice cutting. “A lifetime of being paraded like a prize? A future as another piece in your father’s madness?”

Rhaegar said nothing, his hands clenched at his sides. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and simmering rage.

Brandon shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You don’t care about her. Not really. You’re just afraid you’ll lose whatever game you’re playing.”

Rhaegar’s composure returned, his voice steady but cold. “This isn’t a game, Stark. If you care for her as you claim, you’ll leave her alone before more damage is done.”

Brandon’s gray eyes met Rhaegar’s, his defiance unyielding. “You don’t tell me what to do, Targaryen. And if you think I’ll walk away, you don’t know me at all.”

Rhaegar exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. “Then you’ll both pay the price.”

Without another word, the prince turned and walked away, his crimson cloak trailing behind him. Brandon watched him go, his fists clenched, his chest heaving with the force of his anger.

From the distance, you caught his gaze for a fleeting moment, a subtle smile playing on your lips as Aerys’s entourage passed. Brandon’s resolve hardened. Whatever price there was to pay, he would bear it. For you.

The Godswood near Harrenhal was cloaked in shadows, its ancient weirwood whispering secrets to the cool night air. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting silvery patterns on the mossy ground. It was a place of quiet reverence, but tonight, it was a sanctuary for stolen moments.

Brandon Stark waited, his breath misting in the chill of the night. His wolf’s-head cloak lay discarded on a nearby boulder, leaving him clad only in his simple tunic and breeches. He leaned against the trunk of a weirwood, its pale bark cold against his back, his thoughts a chaotic storm of longing and despair.

The crown of blue roses he had placed in your lap during the tourney still lingered in his mind, the way your lilac eyes had softened, the faint curve of your lips as you accepted his defiance of duty and expectation. It had been a reckless act, one that had already ignited whispers throughout the realm. But for Brandon, it had been worth it.

The rustle of leaves broke the stillness, and his heart leaped. You emerged from the shadows, your dark cloak wrapped tightly around you. Even in the dim light, your silver-gold hair caught the faint glow of the moon, a beacon that drew him toward you.

“Brandon,” you said softly, your voice carrying a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Are you mad to summon me here?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, though there was a shadow of sadness in his gray eyes. “If I am, it’s because of you.”

You stepped closer, the tension in your posture easing as his warmth enveloped you. “You’re a fool,” you murmured, though there was no heat in your words. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not now.”

“And yet you came,” Brandon countered, his voice low and steady. “Because you feel it too.”

You hesitated, your gaze searching his face. “This is dangerous,” you whispered. “We’ll ruin everything.”

Brandon reached for you, his hands gentle as they settled on your waist. “Everything’s already ruined,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the inevitable. “This might be the last time I see you. Let me have this. Let me have you.”

Your chest tightened at the raw emotion in his voice, the vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. “And what happens after?” you asked, your voice trembling. “When we go back to our separate lives? When duty pulls us apart?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his forehead resting against yours. “But I know that right now, I can’t let you go.”

The walls you had built around yourself, the ones meant to shield you from pain and regret, began to crumble under the intensity of his gaze. “Then don’t,” you whispered.

His lips were on yours before the words had fully left your mouth, the kiss fierce and consuming. There was no hesitation, no pretense, only the overwhelming need to feel, to remember, to claim a fleeting moment of happiness in a world that would never allow it.

Brandon’s hands moved to your cloak, slipping it from your shoulders as his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. You arched into him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his tunic as the heat between you grew unbearable. The layers of clothing separating you were shed with desperate hands, discarded onto the soft moss below.

“Gods, Y/N,” Brandon murmured against your skin, his voice thick with longing. “You’re everything I’ll never deserve.”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Don’t say that. Don’t ruin this moment.”

His eyes softened, the storm within them giving way to something gentler. “You’re right. Let me show you instead.”

He lowered you onto the ground, the cool moss a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch. His movements were unhurried yet deliberate, every kiss, every caress a silent promise. When he finally entered you, he paused, his gray eyes locked on yours.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice trembling.

You shook your head, your hands running along his shoulders. “Don’t stop. I want this.”

The rhythm he set was slow at first, each movement deliberate as if he were memorizing every moment. But as the passion between you intensified, the pace quickened, your bodies moving together in a feverish dance. The quiet grove was filled with the sounds of your shared desire, the world beyond forgotten in the haze of your union.

Brandon’s hands clutched your hips, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. “I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, the admission raw and unguarded.

Your heart clenched at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “And I love you,” you replied, your voice breaking.

When the peak came, it was like fire and lightning coursing through your veins, leaving you both trembling in its wake. Brandon collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as his chest heaved with exertion.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, the only sounds the quiet hum of the forest and the steady rhythm of your breathing. Finally, Brandon broke the silence.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Leave all of this behind. We can go anywhere, be anyone.”

You shook your head, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Every time you ask me this. You know I can’t.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his frustration evident. “Why do we have to live by their rules? Why can’t we be free?”

“Because it’s not just us, Brandon,” you said softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. “If we ran, it wouldn’t just be us who suffered. Your family, my family—everyone would pay the price.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he held you closer. “I’d burn the world for you.”

“And that’s exactly what they’d do if we tried,” you replied, tears slipping down your cheeks. “We have this moment. Let it be enough.”

Brandon didn’t reply, his silence heavy with unspoken words. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering as if trying to memorize the feel of you.

When the first rays of dawn began to break through the trees, you sat up, gathering your scattered clothing. “I have to go,” you said, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his gray eyes filled with anguish as he watched you dress. “Will I ever see you again?”

You paused, your back to him as you fastened your cloak. “I don’t know.”

As you disappeared into the early morning mist, Brandon remained in the grove, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this had been your last night together. And yet, the memory of your union, of your love, burned brightly within him—a flame that would never be extinguished.

The First Meeting, before Harrenhal

The air around Riverrun was heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and river reeds as the royal procession arrived in a cascade of color and sound. Black and crimson banners fluttered in the breeze, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen stark against the muted gray sky. Trumpets blared, their sharp notes cutting through the hushed murmurs of the gathered crowd.

Brandon Stark stood near the gates of Riverrun, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his wolf’s-head cloak resting heavily on his shoulders. He had never been one for pomp and ceremony, and the sight of the royal entourage left a bitter taste in his mouth. His father, Lord Rickard Stark, stood beside him, his expression unreadable as they awaited the arrival of the Targaryens. Nearby, Lord Hoster Tully looked equally somber, though there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

Brandon shifted his weight impatiently, glancing toward the banners. "All this for a mad king," he muttered under his breath.

Rickard shot him a warning look. "Mind your tongue, Brandon. Aerys may be mad, but he is still king. And we are here to settle your future, not ruin it."

Brandon grunted but said no more, his gray eyes scanning the procession as it drew closer. The clatter of hooves and the creak of wagons filled the air as knights, courtiers, and servants passed through the gates in a seemingly endless stream.

At the heart of the procession, seated in an ornate litter draped with silken curtains, was King Aerys II. Even from a distance, Brandon could see the disheveled pale hair, the too-thin frame, and the fevered gleam in his eyes. Aerys looked more like a ghost than a king, his presence both unsettling and magnetic.

But it wasn’t Aerys who caught Brandon’s attention.

Trailing behind the king, astride a white mare, was a woman who seemed to have stepped out of a dream. Her hair, a shimmering cascade of gold and silver, caught the light like molten fire. Her lilac eyes, bright and keen, scanned the crowd with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She rode with the ease of one accustomed to grandeur, her posture regal but not rigid. The gown she wore, a delicate blend of black and red silk, clung to her figure in a way that seemed effortless yet impossibly elegant.

Brandon felt his breath catch in his throat. He had heard whispers of Princess Y/N Targaryen, the Jewel of the Realm, but no description had done her justice. She was beauty incarnate, her presence commanding without being overbearing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

"That’s her," Hoster Tully murmured, leaning slightly toward Rickard. "The king’s youngest daughter. A rare sight outside the Red Keep."

Rickard gave a curt nod, but Brandon barely registered their exchange. His gaze remained fixed on you as you rode past, your head turning slightly to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. For a brief moment, your eyes met his, and Brandon felt as if the world had shifted beneath his feet.

The look was fleeting, but it was enough. Enough to send his thoughts spiraling, enough to set his heart racing in a way it never had before.

Later that evening, the lords of the Riverlands and the North were invited to a feast in honor of the royal visit. The great hall of Riverrun was a blaze of light and sound, the long tables laden with food and wine. Minstrels played lively tunes, their music weaving through the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes.

Brandon sat beside his father, a goblet of wine in hand, his attention divided between the boisterous conversation of Robert Baratheon across the table and the occasional glimpse of you seated at the high table. You were beside your father, who alternated between loud proclamations and quiet mutterings that made the courtiers around him shift uncomfortably. Rhaegar sat on Aerys’s other side, his expression calm but distant, his eyes occasionally flickering to his sister with something that resembled worry.

Brandon tore his gaze away when his father nudged him. "Focus, boy. Lord Tully is speaking."

Brandon turned his attention to Hoster, who was discussing the details of the upcoming wedding. Catelyn Tully, seated farther down the table, blushed at the mention of her name but said nothing, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"The arrangements are nearly complete," Hoster was saying. "With the royal visit, we can finalize the dowry and announce the betrothal to the court."

Brandon nodded absently, his thoughts drifting back to you. His father’s scolding voice broke through his reverie.

"Brandon," Rickard said pointedly. "Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, Father," Brandon replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

Hoster leaned toward Catelyn, giving her an encouraging nudge. "Go on, my dear. Speak with your betrothed."

Catelyn hesitated but eventually stood, smoothing her skirts as she approached Brandon. Her steps were light, her face flushed, though her eyes darted nervously to her father for reassurance. Brandon rose out of courtesy, forcing himself to focus on her even as his gaze kept drifting toward the high table where you sat.

"Lord Brandon," Catelyn said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "It’s… good to see you again."

"And you, Lady Catelyn," Brandon replied, his tone polite but distracted.

She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, glancing at her father for support before speaking again. "I hope you’ll find Riverrun to your liking during your stay. My family is… eager to welcome you properly."

Brandon nodded, his attention only half on her words. "Riverrun is a fine place, Lady Catelyn."

His gaze flicked back to you, catching the way your eyes sparkled as you spoke briefly to a courtier. You laughed at something Aerys said, though the sound didn’t reach him. He saw the stiffness in your posture, the mask you wore to hide whatever emotions lay beneath.

Catelyn noticed his distraction, her expression faltering. "I… I hope you’ll find our match agreeable, my lord. My father has worked hard to ensure—"

"Of course," Brandon interrupted, his voice distant. He forced himself to look at her, offering a small, strained smile. "I’m sure we’ll do well together, Lady Catelyn."

Her face reddened, and she lowered her eyes, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Hoster called her back to her seat, and she offered Brandon a quick curtsy before retreating.

Brandon sat back down, his fingers tightening around the goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes found you again, lingering on the way the firelight caught the golden strands of your hair. Whatever the future held, he couldn’t deny the truth that burned in his chest.

He would marry Catelyn, as his father and duty demanded. But his heart, reckless and wild as a wolf, had already chosen with a little more than a single glance.

The moon hung low in the night sky, its silver light spilling over the quiet gardens of Riverrun. The day’s festivities had given way to the soft hum of crickets and the occasional murmur of guards patrolling the castle grounds. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of river water and blooming jasmine.

Brandon Stark moved through the shadows with practiced ease, his cloak blending into the darkness. His father would have skinned him for slipping away from the feast, but Brandon couldn’t stay. Not when he’d caught a glimpse of you stepping out of the hall, the faintest flicker of exhaustion marring your otherwise regal demeanor.

You were not alone, of course. Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, trailed a respectful distance behind, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. A silent sentinel. Brandon had watched as you’d wandered into the gardens, drawn to the quiet solitude they offered.

Now, he stood at the edge of the garden, his heart pounding as he caught sight of you beneath an ancient weirwood tree. The pale bark glowed in the moonlight, the red leaves rustling softly in the breeze. You sat on a stone bench, your head tilted back to gaze at the stars, the soft glow of the night casting an ethereal light on your features.

Brandon hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence faltering. What would he say to you, a princess of the realm? But then your voice broke the silence, soft and melodic, as you hummed a tune he didn’t recognize. It was enough to draw him forward.

“Princess,” he said, stepping into the moonlight, his voice low and steady.

You startled slightly, your eyes widening as you turned to face him. For a moment, there was silence between you, the night holding its breath. Then, your lips curved into a small, polite smile.

“Lord Stark,” you replied, your tone cool but not unkind. “Should you not be enjoying the feast?”

Brandon shrugged, his gray eyes studying you intently. “I’ve had my fill of wine and empty words. The gardens seemed a better place to spend my time.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “And yet you seem to have followed me here.”

Brandon chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You caught my attention, Princess. I’d be a fool not to introduce myself.”

Ser Gerold shifted behind you, his presence a subtle reminder of the distance that should remain between a Stark of Winterfell and a princess of the Iron Throne. But you raised a hand, a silent gesture that eased the tension.

“And so you have,” you said, your voice carrying the faintest hint of amusement. “Brandon Stark, son of Lord Rickard. Your reputation precedes you.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin wolfish. “Does it, now? I hope it’s a good one.”

“That depends,” you said, your gaze steady. “Are you as reckless as they say?”

Brandon’s laugh was softer this time, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Only when the occasion calls for it. And you, Princess? Do you always wander the gardens alone, or am I just fortunate tonight?”

You smiled, a genuine one that softened your regal bearing. “I needed air. Riverrun is lovely, but the court can be… stifling.”

Brandon nodded, his expression turning more serious. “I can imagine. Aerys doesn’t seem like the type to let his children wander freely.”

Your gaze flickered downward for a moment, a shadow passing over your features. “No, he does not. My father values control above all else.”

The vulnerability in your voice caught Brandon off guard. He had expected haughtiness, the arrogance of royalty, but instead, he found a woman weighed down by chains she could not escape. He took a step closer, his tone softening.

“You deserve more than this,” he said, his voice low. “More than being paraded like a prize.”

You looked up at him, your lilac eyes searching his face. “And what would you know of what I deserve, Lord Stark?”

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding. “Enough to know that you’re more than what they make you out to be. More than just a Targaryen princess.”

Your lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across your face. Then, to his astonishment, you laughed—a soft, melodic sound that sent a thrill through him.

“You’re bold, Lord Stark,” you said, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Most men wouldn’t dare speak to me like this.”

“Most men don’t have wolves at their back,” Brandon replied with a grin, his confidence returning. “And I’m not afraid of dragons.”

You studied him for a long moment, your gaze lingering on his sharp features, the way his gray eyes burned with unspoken intensity. “Perhaps you should be,” you said softly, though there was no malice in your tone.

“Perhaps,” Brandon said, stepping closer still, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But I’m not.”

The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words, the distance narrowing as your gazes locked. Ser Gerold cleared his throat pointedly, breaking the moment.

You stood, smoothing your gown as you straightened your posture, your regal mask slipping back into place. “It’s late, Lord Stark. I should return.”

Brandon inclined his head, though his eyes remained fixed on you. “Of course, Princess.”

As you turned to leave, your steps graceful and measured, you paused for the briefest moment, glancing back at him. “Goodnight, Lord Stark.”

“Goodnight, Princess,” he replied, his voice tinged with something deeper.

He watched as you disappeared into the shadows, Ser Gerold following close behind. For the first time in his life, Brandon Stark found himself truly captivated. You were fire and ice, strength and vulnerability, a contradiction he couldn’t ignore.

As the night deepened, Brandon leaned against the ancient weirwood, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. He knew, even then, that this was only the beginning.

The secluded bank of the Tumblestone River lay bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, its surface shimmering like liquid silver. The air was cool and damp, the gentle murmur of the river blending with the rustling of the willow trees that framed the hidden spot. Brandon Stark stood beneath one such tree, his broad frame partially concealed by its drooping branches. He shifted his weight, his hands resting on his belt, his gaze fixed on the path that led to their meeting place.

She would come. He knew she would. And yet, his heart raced as he waited, the thrill of the forbidden coursing through him. Every fiber of his being told him this was madness—treason, even. But when he thought of her, her eyes filled with a fire that mirrored his own, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The faint crunch of footsteps on the damp grass broke the quiet. He turned sharply, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword before he saw her emerge from the shadows. You.

You moved with the grace of a cat, your black and crimson gown trailing lightly behind you, the silver threads glinting faintly in the moonlight. Your hair, a cascade of gold and silver, was left loose, and the sight of it made his breath catch.

“Lord Stark,” you said softly, your voice carrying a playful edge. “Do you always skulk about like a wolf in the shadows?”

He grinned, stepping forward to meet you. “Only when I’m waiting for a dragon to appear.”

You laughed lightly, the sound sending a thrill through him. As you drew closer, his eyes drank in every detail of you—the way your lips curved, the delicate rise and fall of your chest, the faint blush that dusted your cheeks.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Brandon admitted, his voice low.

“Neither was I,” you replied, glancing around as if to ensure no one had followed. “But here I am.”

He stepped closer, his voice softening. “Why?”

You hesitated, your gaze locking with his. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About the way you looked at me. About the things you said.”

Brandon’s grin faded, replaced by something deeper, more intense. “You haunt me, Y/N,” he said, his tone raw. “Every moment I’m not with you, I wish I were.”

You looked away briefly, your hands fidgeting with the edge of your gown. “You shouldn’t say such things,” you murmured. “If anyone found out…”

“They won’t,” Brandon said firmly, reaching out to gently take your hand. His touch was warm, grounding, and you allowed it, your fingers curling around his. “No one has to know.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the river’s gentle song filling the space between you. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Brandon stepped closer, his free hand rising to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”

You didn’t reply, your lips parting slightly as your gaze flickered to his mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed.

Brandon leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and searing. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze, caught between caution and desire. But then you melted into him, your hands finding his shoulders as you returned the kiss with equal fervor.

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more consuming, as the thrill of everything forbidden wrapped around you like the night. Brandon’s fingers found the ties of your gown, his movements deliberate yet trembling with restraint.

You broke the kiss, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you looked up at him. “Brandon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and longing. “This is dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice rough. “Not tonight. Just let me have this. Let me have you.”

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, seeing the same desperate yearning that mirrored your own. Slowly, you nodded, your hands moving to the clasp of his cloak.

The cloak fell to the ground with a soft thud, and his hands resumed their work, loosening the laces of your gown. The cool night air brushed against your skin as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. Brandon’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent.

You reached for him, your fingers brushing against the edges of his tunic. “And you’re wearing too much.”

His grin returned, wolfish and full of promise. “Allow me to fix that.”

Piece by piece, his clothing joined yours on the ground, the moonlight painting his skin in silver as you ran your hands over his broad chest. His warmth enveloped you, his touch igniting a fire that burned away all thoughts of duty, of consequence.

Brandon’s hands were steady yet tender as he explored every curve of your body, his calloused fingers igniting sparks wherever they touched. You shivered beneath him, your skin warm against the cool night air. The world beyond this hidden grove seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sound of your breath and the rustling of leaves.

He leaned over you, his gray eyes searching yours for any hesitation. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, your hands sliding up his broad shoulders, holding onto him as if he were your anchor. “I trust you.”

Brandon’s lips brushed against yours, a fleeting kiss that carried both passion and reassurance. Slowly, he positioned himself, his movements deliberate as he gave you time to adjust. As he began to push into you, a gasp escaped your lips, your body tensing slightly at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice strained, his forehead pressing against yours.

You shook your head, though your breaths were uneven. “It’s… different,” you admitted, your fingers digging into his arms. “But don’t stop. Please.”

His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his movements gentle, giving you time to acclimate. The initial discomfort ebbed, replaced by a growing warmth that spread through you like fire. You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing beneath him.

“Brandon,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “You can move.”

His eyes darkened, the restraint in his expression melting into something raw and unfiltered. He began to move, his rhythm slow at first, each thrust measured and careful. But as your hips rose to meet his, a quiet plea on your lips, his control slipped. His pace quickened, his passion no longer tethered as the two of you lost yourselves in each other.

The intensity built between you, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. His hands roamed your body, his lips pressing kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, your breaths mingling as your moans filled the secluded grove.

“Gods, Y/N,” Brandon groaned, his voice hoarse. “You’re… everything.”

You couldn’t find words, your own voice caught in the overwhelming sensation that consumed you. You arched into him, your body meeting his with wild abandon as the two of you chased the peak together.

When it came, it was like a storm breaking—a rush of pleasure that left you gasping, trembling in his arms. He followed you moments later, his body shuddering as he buried his face against your neck, his breaths ragged.

The two of you lay tangled together, your hearts racing in unison, the cool night air wrapping around your heated skin. For a while, there was only the sound of the river and the quiet murmurs of your breathing.

Brandon broke the silence first, his voice low and filled with a bittersweet edge. “I don’t want to let you go.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Neither do I.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as he looked at you with a mixture of longing and determination. “Say the word, Y/N. If you want to leave, I’ll take you. Wherever you wish to go, we’ll go together. I’ll keep you safe, I swear it.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice making your heart ache. You wanted to say yes, to run away with him and leave behind the chains that bound you. But reality was a cruel mistress, and you knew the truth.

“It can’t be,” you said softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. “You know it can’t.”

Brandon frowned, his hand dropping to your shoulder. “Why not? You don’t belong in that cage. You’re not theirs to control.”

“And yet, I am,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. “If I left, it would bring ruin to my family, to yours. My father… he would burn everything to the ground.”

Brandon cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. “I don’t care about the consequences. I only care about you.”

You smiled faintly, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “And I care about you. Which is why I can’t let you destroy yourself for me.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breaths heavy as he tried to reign in his emotions. “You deserve better than this,” he said, his voice cracking. “Better than him. Better than all of them.”

Your thumb brushed against his cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed. “For tonight, I had better. I had you.”

He kissed you again, this time slow and tender, as if trying to memorize the taste of you. When he finally pulled away, his hands lingered on your waist, reluctant to let you go.

“I have to go,” you said, your voice heavy with regret. “If I’m gone too long, they’ll notice.”

Brandon nodded, though every fiber of his being screamed to hold you close and never let you leave. “Go, then,” he said quietly. “But don’t forget this. Don’t forget us.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I could never forget.”

With a final kiss, you rose, gathering your discarded clothing and slipping back into the shadows. Brandon watched you go, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this might be the last time he held you.

And yet, he knew this night would stay with him forever, a memory burned into his soul like the heat of your touch. For you were fire, and he was a wolf drawn to the flame.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I hate those Daenerys is going to sacrifice herself/die theories so much it genuinely makes me tweak and I have never been the type of person to get upset at all over fiction or any type of media, but this irks me so bad because not only is Daenerys my absolute favorite character of all time, it’s upsetting how the female character is always the one who has to die for others sakes and never achieve anything for herself. Yes, it’s her destiny as AA to fight the Others, but that doesn’t mean that she has to die doing it. Like, seriously, after we got F&B and saw how many Targaryen women struggled with misogyny and being passed over for the throne, it feels upsetting to me if the one who is supposed to break the wheel will never have a chance to do so. I do love Bran but I do not see him fit to sit on the throne, not to mention how young he is and will be at the series end unless George does a massive timeskip, and after the whole world is in shambles after the Long Night, who is more fitting to sit on the throne and help mend things and lead the people forward? A well experienced ruler and fighter who will bring along a new age of change, or a child with no such experience? Perhaps it’s just me being salty but I just really want the best for my favorite character who I believe deserves to have her shot at having a home and being able to rule and change the world together with the other characters. Especially after the end of GoT, which no I don’t ever believe that George will go that route, but with how everything happened in the show, it looked like Westeros was a completely and utter mess and there was nobody capable left to pick up the pieces, Bran’s ascension to the throne was so random too and didn’t even feel satisfying or like a good conclusion (not that those two incapable idiots could ever produce a satisfying ending, but yeah). What are your thoughts on this? I just feel sad that fellow Dany fans are literally enthusiastically waiting for her death in the upcoming books as if there isn’t a better destiny for her :( The female character who managed to rise to power and become a ruler in her own right dying or giving that up to the men in order to “settle down” leaves such a bad taste in my mouth and doesn’t look like the subversion George has done with her character at all.

I definitely agree with you anon, Dany dying/sacrificing herself really doesn't seem to fit with her story. Yes, Dany certainly would be willing to die to save the world, but that doesn't seem to be where GRRM is writing her.

Dany's story is saturated with life; which is pretty ironic since she's been called "Daughter of Death". She's closely tied to themes of fertility (mother of dragons, helloo), rebirth (Azor Ahai, entering the pyre), and survival/endurance.

Dany's story shares very little similarities to characters who have been set up for death. For example, Robb. Dany may share some superficial similarities to Robb, but the signs of Robb's impending death are not shared at all. GRRM always sets up the deaths of his major characters from their introductions. That hasn't happened with Dany; if anything we see a set up to her surviving.

You're so right about how people are foaming at the mouth for Dany's death. Her dying after everything she's been through and everything she stands for is just...no. It feels so gross and has some really concerning undertones.

The woman who actually fought for change and made a massive upheaval in the status quo, who genuinely cares for all her people, who understands the responsibility of ruling, who demonstrates incredible wisdom, who only wants to make the world better dying for the sake of the story is just wow.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Yan!Daemon T. NSFW A-Z

(I couldn’t resist, I needed to make this, this was one of the most requested things I’ve ever had so I hope that you love it!)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Daemon shows affection through physical touch, he always wants to be touching you in some way whether that’s with his arm around your waist, you sat across his lap (which is a near constant position for him to put you in) or possibly just as simple as holding your hand

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as physically possible!

•Daemon will protect you with everything he has and the idea of getting bloody will not deter him for a moment. You had better hope that blood doesn’t make you sick to see or smell because with how often Daemon believes (true or not) that men are flirting with his Princess, there’s going to be a lot of bloodstains on his clothes…and yours

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•If you push Daemon too far he can get violent with anyone

•He would never harm you the way he harms other people, however you are in no way exempt from his rage

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•If you try and keep yourself from him then yes, he will absolutely cross any limit he believes he needs to. You are Daemons wife and that means you will perform the duties of a wife as you are meant to as long as you are healthy and strong enough to do so

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Daemon is actually quite open with you about his feelings in your marital bed, which is really the only place he is willing to talk about anything personal or private

•He actually surprises you a bit with how open he is with you on your wedding night. After your third round he snuggled you to his chest to allow you a break and he began talking, ending up telling you quite a lot about himself for much longer than you expected

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Daemon would find it comical to see his cute little wife fighting back

•He will happily pin you down and fuck the fight right out of you for as long as he needs to

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•Daemon does not play games in any facet of his life (unless he’s teasing assholes/idiots like Otto Hightower or Gerold Royce), certainly not in his marriage

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience you have with Daemon is when you make the mistake of spending the afternoon that he is out for a ride on Caraxes with an old friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time

•That afternoon was spent in the library getting to know each other all over again, however as he walked you back towards your rooms for the evening, you ran into your husband who did not like you in the company of another man

•Daemon, being Daemon, would not listen to reason and that night your husband took you while covered in the blood of your friend, covering you in his warm, sticky blood while his corpse laid 10 feet away from your bed with his eyes open and unseeing

•Strangely enough, Daemon was happy to comfort you from the nightmares that you suffered for months after the incident

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Daemons plan is to breed you full of as many babies as physically possible

•He plans to fill you with an entire litter of Targaryen babies which is why he spends so much time fucking your cunt as full as he possibly can

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•110% he does!

•You learned on your wedding day that Daemon was a jealous man when you made the mistake of accepting the proposal to dance from a Lannister

•Growing up your mother always taught you to never turn down a request to dance but as you stood behind your husband while he was crouched over the Lion bashing his head in with a wine goblet from the Kings table, you quickly learned that your husband did not want other men to touch you in any way whatsoever

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Daemon is a sweet, loving man…to you and you alone

•No one else should or does expect that kind of treatment from Daemon. The only other people you have hope for are your children since the second you became pregnant Daemon was somehow even more protective of you

•He spends hours every day touching and rubbing your belly, talking to the babies at night in your bed after he has finished fucking you for the evening

•’I want to be sure that they know who I am when they’re born. They’ll know you, you’re their mother but should they not like me I do not know what I would do.’ It was a rare moment of vulnerability that Daemon was showing, something he only did with you.

‘Of course they will know you, my Dragon. You are their father, their protector and they will absolutely adore you!’ You assured him, not liking to see your confident, cocky husband in any kind of self doubting mind set.

‘You always know what to say to calm my nerves…I’m going to keep speaking to them though, just in case.’

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•You found out about Daemons interest the day that you were told you would be marrying the Targaryen prince

•It had only just been announced that his lady wife had passed tragically in a riding accident and then suddenly your father was telling you that the Prince had all but demanded your hand in marriage and your father had no choice but to say yes (not that he would have said anything else)

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Daemon isn’t the type of person to hide who he is, what you see is what you get

•He is just as cocky, sarcastic and angry behind closed doors as he is in public when someone upsets him, the only difference is a soft side with his wife and babies where no one else can see

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•If Daemon has to punish you he prefers to lock you in your chambers until you settle down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but if he has to then you will find it impossible to sit down for a long time

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•You can still do most things, but if you want to go out then you must ask him first

•Being around other men is the only big difference, Daemon doesn’t even want you around your own male family members lest they have an unhealthy obsession with his beautiful wife

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•The man has zero patience and zero chill. None.

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: Daemon would genuinely be torn up about your death and he would have a hard time being close to the child that you brought into the world before dying on the birthing bed

•Escaped: You would never get beyond the front gate and if you did you would be corralled by an angry Blood Worm Dragon blocking your way so escape wasn’t worth the hassle

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•He will never let you go however, every once in a while he will regret harming you when he lets his anger get the best of him, making up for it in his own way by bringing you gifts or taking you for an evening flight (which he knows is your favorite)

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you he went to the Vale and murdered his wife to ensure no one (the King) could tell him that he could not have you

•He demanded your hand right after and Viserys said he would have to wait at least a week out of respect and to not seem suspicious before he “asked your hand” despite the fact that everyone knew it was no question, you would be his one way or another and the ‘permission’ just determined whether your father needed to die first

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Daemon hates your tears and when you break down and cry, that is usually the moment he knows that he’s gone too far

•Your husband is the first person to comfort you, especially during your nightmares (that he caused) as he hates seeing you sad or scared

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Daemon would often have Caraxes eat whatever man he suspected had an interest in his wife

•He would also leave you with Caraxes when he had business to attend to, knowing Caraxes had taken a liking to you and would viciously protect you (especially when pregnant), the Dragon loving you quite a lot and enjoying the scratches you gave him when he was ordered to protect you. He had killed countless men and women for getting too close while he was on guard (whether they meant you harm or not)

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•All you had to do is point and someone is dead

•Also if you want Daemon to be soft and sweet, all you need to do is come up with a ‘reason’ to cry, it was the one thing your husband genuinely could not handle seeing

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in any way that would have a lasting impact on you

•Locking you in your chambers wasn’t something that ‘hurt you’ and the only pain Daemon ever caused you physically was when you disobeyed him or questioned/challenged his authority in front of others, and even then it was only blistering your ass (which he would then soothe with creams that he had gotten from the maester once you had truly apologized)

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Daemon is obsessed with you, worship is the word most people would use to describe how he looks at you

•Worship actually didn’t quite capture the true feeling once you had announced your first pregnancy to him and the court, he very nearly fucked you right there in front of the King and the Court, his protective streak instantly growing x10 which no one would have thought possible until they witnessed it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Daemon did not ‘pine’ at all

•The moment he met you he decided that you would be his and since your father was actively looking for a husband for you, he immediately took himself to the Vale and ensured the death of his lady wife Rhea Royce

•The only length of time that he waited was the allotted week that his brother ordered him to wait so that no one would think anything that happened had been Daemons doing, and during that week he had fed 3 different lords to Caraxes for daring to try and court you

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Daemon would not want to break you, he wants you to love him and eventually he does make that happen

•You did try to hold out and not fall for his charm, knowing that everyone around suspected that he had killed his wife to marry you so in a sense once you gave yourself over to the feeling of loving him you did ‘break’ in a way but who wouldn’t when they’re being worshipped and loved by a Targaryen Prince and his giant red dragon?

Daemon T. Masterlist

[teleit]

Questions I would like to ask Rhaenyra, part 2

These questions are still not the result of long and careful thought, but rather spontaneous nonsense that came to my mind, but someone has to ask, why not me?

11) Aegon's Prophecy - by what criteria did Viserys determine that the promised prince would be born through YOUR line? The only fundamental difference between Targtowers and you is Aemma Arryn. So the Arryns are the cornerstone of the promised prince's birth?

12) The prophecy again. Why did Viserys decide that HE had any relation to the promised prince? If there was no gender inequality in Old Valyria, then Rhaenys and Laena are the true heirs, so either Baela or Rhaena bears the burden of being the progenitor of the promised prince. Viserys was not chosen for any merit, but for having a penis.

13) And again - the prophecy. If this is a Targaryen prophecy, isn't it undermined by the dilution of blood? The Arryns, Strongs, and Velaryons all dilute the blood of true dragonriders (Velaryons are questionable, but still). If the blood is strong (heh), then with each generation, if Jace becomes king, not only the distinctive appearance but also the special magic of Valyria is lost, replaced by the magic of the Andals and the First Men? Appoint your Aegon as your heir, in that case.

14) Prophecy, fuck. Why do you think the prophecy will only come true if you are crowned? If the promised prince is born from your blood, just betroth your child/grandchild to the child/grandchild of King Aegon II, and there will be no need for war, bloodshed, and dragon slaying. Or do you care not about the fate of the world, but about power?

15) Are you sure, absolutely sure, that Aegon and Viserys won't grow up jealous of your three eldest children, who will get more than them, despite being bastards? Yes, the little ones idolize Jace as children, but is there any guarantee that Aegon will never feel bitter that as the first legitimate son of Queen Rhaenyra, he gets crumbs compared to a bastard? Daemon is their father, if there's one thing that man has in abundance, it's stupidity, impudence, and arrogance.

16) What makes YOU a special woman? Why should your rights be the only ones respected, and your ambitions respected? Why can't the daughters of House Stokeworth and House Rosby become heirs? If it's about your Varilian heritage and dragon ownership, why can't Baela, the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter of Corlys and Rhaenys, rule Driftmark?

17) What the hell is up with your inept wartime leadership? Why are you as unprepared to rule as your younger brother, who is only 21 and has never been trained to be a king? You've been an heir for 20+ years, why are you wringing your hands and acting like a fool during a crisis?

18) Why did Vermithor listen to you (I already know the answer - a pathetic jump over the shark, but I want to hear Rhaenyra's version)? It makes no sense, contradicts the lore, has no plot importance, and just looks forced and stupid.

19) Why, with THREE dragons at your disposal, didn't you go after Aemond? He killed your son, and you stand there grinning like an idiot!

20) What kind of mental gymnastics did you need to do to "son for son"? If we follow your reasoning, then for the death of your second son, Aemond should die as the second son, for the death of Jaeherys, Jacaerys or his and Baela's firstborn should be killed, if you want Aegon to die, then you can kill your Aegon as a namesake, or your firstborn. If you also want "a daughter for a daughter", then who should be killed for Visenya - Helaena or Jaehaera? What parameters should be entered into these calculations?

21) Speaking of Visenya. Why the fuck do you blame the greens for the death of your unviable child? The girl had a hole in her chest, it's not something that can be fixed by simply carrying her to term.

I was promised protection, so I'm not afraid to ask these questions =) Maybe there will be a third part, if I still delve into this topic, and not catch what is on the surface.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

FIRST ROUND: 42nd Tilt

Will Scarlett, BBC’s Robin Hood (2006-2009) VS. Francesco de Pazzi, Medici (2016-2019)

Propaganda

Will Scarlett, BBC’s Robin Hood (2006-2009) Portrayed by: Harry Lloyd Defeated Opponents: - George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence [David Oakes], The White Queen (2013)

“YOU know Harry Lloyd as Viserys Targaryen and Every Other Shitheel in Every British-cast Show Ever, but I will forever know him as Mr. Herbert pocket in Great Expectations, and as Will Scarlett--both of whom stand as testament to the fact that Harry Lloyd can play characters that aren't shit-rags every once in a damn while. And OKAY, so he doesn't necessarily live up to the legacy of the "gaily feathered bird" like other Will Scarletts, but he's got OTHER virtues. He's SMART. He's PRETTY. He's got a little bit of the BROODING. He's got the knowing of woodcrafts: he can get you in and out of anywhere you wanna go and he can carve you things. He's a voice of reason, he has a plan when Robin doesn’t, and a dry wit--maybe a stick in the mud sometimes, but that's O-KAY, he's CUTEEE.”

Francesco de Pazzi, Medici (2016-2019) Portrayed by: Matteo Martari Defeated Opponents: - Geoffrey Chaucer [Pier Paolo Pasolini], The Canterbury Tales (1972)

“My problematic blorbo. My little meow meow. He did nothing wrong and then he did everything wrong and he's an idiot and I adore him. He gets a redemption arc and then an anti-redemption arc. He is sweet and he is lost, and he is cute, and he is hot, and he is angry, and he is scared and have I mentioned he's hot? Because he is!!! He has the kind of chiseled face that not even STATUES get to have!! And those eyes!!! And that hair!!! I will treasure him forever.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Will Scarlett:

For Francesco de Pazzi:

“The brooding bad boy of my dreams. He has cheekbones that could slice skin and very, very nice hair. And his HANDS? Let's just say... I am Looking™”